Waiting
by Alfendi Layton
Summary: "When you become a woman, then we'll get married." "I already am a woman." He just snorted, "You ain't a woman yet." "Well, the last time I was in the bathroom, I'm pretty sure what I saw was a vagina." "A vagina doesn't make you a woman, kiddo. Well, I mean it dose, but I'm talking about something different." How was I suppose to know what he meant, I was only twelve years old..
1. Chapter 1

Waiting

It was 3:30, and I had just gotten home from school. I dug the house key out of the depths of my backpack and unlocked the door.

I was relieved to finally be home and away from school. Honestly, I know what you must be thinking. You're probably guessing that I'm bullied, that nobody understands me, ect, ect. Nope. My problem with school is the same problem every other kid has. I just don't like it.

I hate cliches and melodramatics, I refuse to be one of those kids who thinks the world is out to get them just because things don't always go the way I think it should. I completely understand school, and why it is so important that I go. And honestly I don't mind learning, but what I don't understand is why I have to learn things which don't interest me. Why can't I just go to the classes I like?

I sat my bag down next to the kitchen table where I would be starting my home work soon, but I needed to change out of my God-awful uniform first.

As I looked through my dresser for everyday clothes, I found myself thinking of the Neither World, wishing so much to just burn my homework and be done with it. I seriously considered half-assing it. At least on the subjects that bore me, but then I think better of it. I've always been a decent student. Not the best, not the worst, but at seventh grade I'm half way through school, so I figure there's no reason to start not caring now.

I pulled my clothes off and quickly redressed in denim shorts that were almost too big on me, and black shirt. I wasn't up to styling my hair, so I just shook my head back and forth it make it look less uppity.

I started out of my room, heading back to the kitchen to start on my assignments, when I heard what I thought sounded like someone tapping on glass.

Gee, I wonder who that could be?

I looked over my shoulder to see who else but Beetlejuice giving me his crooked idiotic grin while waving.

"Busy?" he asked, about to step from the mirror.

"About to be."

Sometimes he would come to my world. The world of the living, or the world of the 'air suckers' is what Beej would call it. I always made sure my parents were gone when he came over. And if he came over while my parents were home, well, I made sure we were quiet. Honestly, it wasn't hard to get away with. My parents were incredibly oblivious. They never questioned why I would bring two sodas to my room, or why my hair and cloths always smelled like smoke, or where I would go when I was gone all Saturday and Sunday. It was almost like they didn't care. I didn't think too much about it. I was just happy that I wasn't getting caught.

Then again, they did check on me every once in a great while...

He shot me a nasty look, "What are you about to be so busy doin' that you can't come to the Neither World with me?"

I stepped back into my room, closing the door behind me. "Start on my home work."

"Can't that wait til later?"

We have this argument at least twice a week. He wants me to drop whatever it is that I'm doing and goof off with him in the Neither, and I say, 'I can't, I have homework,' and then he says, 'what's homework?' and I have to go on a thirty minute explanation of what home work is, then he says, 'school is a waste of time' so then I have to explain the importance of school, and by the time we're done arguing about it, I have some how mysteriously ended up in the Neither. Not this time, though. I'll win this time.

"Sorry, but it can't this time, Beetlejuice."

"Aw, c'mon, " he urged, sounding very convincing, "Thee times the charm!"

"Nope." I was committed to winning this, "I'm finishing my home work tonight."

"Well, can I come over then?"

"Can you be quiet while I do my home work?" I asked.

"No."

I exhaled a groan of irritation.

* * *

><p>He'd told me once that the only way he could be free was if he got married to a living woman. I asked him, "Then what are you waiting for?" I wanted to know why he wasn't looking for a wife. If all he needed to be free was a wife, why was he wasting time playing NES (which is what we were doing at the time) with me?<p>

He didn't pause the game, he never even turned his eyes from the screen, "I'm waiting."

"For what?" if I had been stuck in the Neither World as long as he had, I think I would put a little more effort into getting out.

"You to grow up, duh." he said as if I should've already known, pausing the game and giving me the finger for no reason.

So that's why he wasn't looking. He'd already found his wife. Oddly enough, I wasn't bothered by this. I was only twelve years old, I thought he was joking.

He un-paused the game, then sent Luigi careening off the edge of the platform, "Fuck."

I reached between us and took a handful of popcorn, "You didn't even give me an engagement ring," I said through the popcorn in my mouth, "Or even ask for that matter."

He send Luigi off the edge again, losing his last life, "Well, the reason I didn't ask is 'cause you don't have a choice." he said taking a handful of popcorn for himself, "When you become a woman, then we'll get married."

I have no idea why I didn't think to ask why I apparently didn't have a choice. Maybe it was because it was my turn to play.

I jumped over a Goomba, bounced off another, and then hit the bottom of a block and got a fire flower. I shot fire balls at the on coming enemies, smiling when I heard Beej muttering, 'show off'.

"I already am a woman."

He just snorted, taking more popcorn from the bowl, "You ain't a woman yet."

"Well, the last time I was in the bathroom, I'm pretty sure what I saw was a vagina." I cringed, I hate that word.

"A vagina doesn't make you a woman, kiddo. Well, I mean it dose, but I'm talking about something different."

"Shoot!" I walked right off the floating bricks and fell, "What are you talking about, then?" I asked as the game took Mario back to the starting point of the level.

He bit a piece of his red, chipped finger nail off and spit it on the carpet, "Uh, it's like... It's not so much the vagina that makes you a woman, it's more like what comes_ out _of your vagina that makes you a woman."

I reached the flag at the end of the level, "Ew, you mean pee?" I felt embarrassed now.

I could feel Beej staring at me. It was one of his famous looks he gave me when he thought I had said something stupid, like the one he gave me a minute ago when he flipped me off.

"Babes," he asked.

"Yeah?"

"What the hell are they teaching you in school?"

"I dunno, I don't really pay attention," but we both knew that was a lie, because I always made As and Bs.

It was 4:30, Mom and Dad would be home soon. I paused the game and got up from the floor and stretched. "You'd better get going. It's almost time for my parents to be home."

He didn't get up. He took my controller and resumed the game, "And? When has that ever been a problem?"

I picked up the popcorn bowl which now had nothing in it but un-popped kernels, and the empty yoohoo cartons from the floor. "They've been checking in on me lately."

He used up all of Mario's lives, so he switched controllers again, "Then tell them _not_ to check in on you. Yer not a baby, sheesh."

"I think they noticed how often I disappear." I looked at him, still laying on the floor, "Maybe I should visit less."

The next second he was floating in front of me, holding my wrist in his fist tight enough it almost hurt, "Lyd," he started, "That, is a really, really, bad idea." he dragged me closer, "I don't care what you have to tell your parents, but do not stop visiting."

He sounded angry. At me. I don't know what I could've done to him, but I didn't care. I was sorry regardless, and I was ready to say as much if he would just stop looking at me like that.

I placed my free hand over his, urging him to let go, "Okay, I won't. I promise."

He cracked a smile then, "Good! Say ya later, babes!"

And just like that, he was gone.

* * *

><p>I was sitting down at the dinner table, quietly eating as my parents chatted on about work, politics and anything else that was boring because that's what grown ups like to talk about. I usually don't pay much attention when they talk about their day. My mind is always somewhere else.<p>

I look down at my plate, noticing I've barley touched my food. I look back up at my parents, who are still talking about boring stuff I don't care about.

"May I be excused?"

"No. Anyway, that house will need renovati-" Dad wasn't harsh, or snappy, but the way he just went back to his conversation a second later kinda bugged me. It made me feel ignored. And lonely. It was times like this when I would cram my face as fast as I could, so I could go to 'bed'.

I never considered myself to be a needy child. I was used to keeping myself entertained, being an only child and all. But, why did I feel like they should be paying attention to me? I clearly didn't want them to, considering they could find out about my ghostly adventures in the Neither. Some part of me wanted them to find out. So they would know, that even if I wasn't significant, that I was friends someone who was.

It's funny. You could pass right through Beej, yet he seemed more real, more solid, to me than my parents did at the time.


	2. Chapter 2

I really didn't live up to the whole Goth reputation. I thought of it as more of a fashion style than I way of life. I didn't cuss, I didn't fight, I wasn't suicidal. I was a pretty good kid. I tried to be at least. The only bad thing I ever did was run away. And boy, did I run away a lot.

At one point I was staying in the Neither World every night. Me and Beej would usually pass out at his place after some ridiculous adventure. Normally I was sure to be back in my bedroom before my alarm went off and I had to get ready for school, but sometimes Beej would nudge me awake with his boot, (for some reason I always fell asleep on the floor) and would say, "Don't you have school er some shit?" and then I'd get up, brush the cigarette ash from my shirt which had been on the floor where I had fallen asleep, and go home. This went on for months.

Tonight was a little different than usual. We didn't almost die. (for some of us, again) We just hung out at Beej's house all night watching old movies and eating junk food. Let me rephrase that. I was eating junk food. Beetlejuice was eating bugs.

"This place is almost like a parallel world," I said, "This is just like Psycho, but different."

Beetlejuice gave me his world famous do-you-even-hear-yourself-talk look, and said, "This is nothing like Psycho. Look," he leaned over the edge of the couch and pointed to the screen, "That shit ain't fake." He was talking about the blood flowing down the drain.

"Yeah, I'm sure it's not, but if you could split both scenes down the middle and put them together, you would probably never tell the difference."

He scooted back and crossed his legs, saying something under his breath, but I didn't catch what he said.

We said nothing for a long time. He was fairly interested in the movie, and I was scrutinizing it to death, trying to figure out how Beetlejuice _couldn't_ see the similarities in the two films. He could be really stupid at times.

I was sitting in the floor at the time, occasionally working on a building of a pyramid made from cigarette butts when the movie got to the boring parts.

As I've said before, he smoked around me all the time, and every once in a while, he would pull two cigarettes from the box and offer me one. I turned him down every time except once, but that's a story for another time. Anyway, he'd shrug and poke the turned-down cigarette back into the box and light up. No, 'aw c'mon, don't be such a goodie two shoes.'

Same for drinking. Sometimes he would hand me some kind of Neither World brand of beer. I always turned it down though. It smelled worse than the cigarettes.

You must think that Beej was a bad influence. Well, he was. But he never encouraged me to do anything too bad. Or maybe he just didn't bother trying, because he knew I had too good an up bringing. Either way, I was set in my ways as much as he was his.

Beetlejuice uncrossed his legs and stood up, "I gotta take a leak," he said as he walked around the couch.

"Do you want me to pause the movie?" I called to him.

"I dun care." he called back.

Since he didn't care, I didn't waste the energy to pause the movie.

I leaned way over on my side and scooped up more butts. I must've had about four packs worth in front of me, and it made for a very large pyramid.  
>It could've been bigger, but I was too lazy to get the butts that were out of my reach, so I dropped the last one on top and left it as it was.<p>

The sound of a can opening signaled Beeetlejuice's return.

"Before you sit down, kick those cigarette butts over here." I said, pointing to the ones that sat at the far corner of the couch.

For whatever reason, he didn't question me, he did as I asked.

Another long silence stretched on, and with out much talking going on, it left my mind to wonder.

What dose Beetlejuice do on his own time? I know he doesn't work, and I know that I'm the only friend he has that will spend more than fifteen minutes with him at a time. And surly he doesn't just sit at home. He's too ADHD for that.

Of course he did have a lot of lady friends he'd see every now and again. So I guess that could keep him entertained for awhile. But again, nobody will spend more than fifteen minutes at a time with him.

How dose the Ghost with the Most occupy himself?

Weirdly, It had never occurred to me that Beej had a life that didn't involve me.

"What do you do when I'm not around?"

He yanked the tab from the empty can of beer, cussing when it sliced open his red tipped finger, "What?"

"I said, what do you do when I'm not around?" I asked again.

He flicked the tab away the same way he would flick away a filter, "Same shit I do when you are around."

I didn't say anything more. I just gazed around his apartment, wondering if he would mind if I cleaned it, because I knew that some of the trash in the floor was mine. Like the grape soda can, the ice cream bar wrappers, and the half burned (he accidentally dropped his cigarette, still mad though) comic book. "Why?" he asked.

"Just wanted to know what I was missing."

He snorted, suddenly turning away from me, "You ain't missing a thing, Babes. Not a damn thing."

I woke up the next morning to Beetlejuice's hand on my shoulder, shaking me to wake up so I wouldn't be late for school.

And I thought it was funny.

Because this time when he woke me up, it didn't leave a bruise where he'd nudge me with his boot...


	3. Chapter 3

Hey all! I know the story is kinda boring right now, but there is a bigger plot to be heard.

I never really explained what's going on, and I really can't without spoiling anything. But I will say that before anything really eventful happens, we first have to go through Lydia's childhood.

Currently she is twelve.

By the by, this is the cartoon-verse

* * *

><p>"Jack Frost is hard at work."<p>

The snow was making a_ krunch! _noise as we walked through town. We'd just had an ice-storm, so everything was coated a thin layer of ice. It reminded me of the books from the Chronicles of Narnia series. Not really my choice of literature, but it was required reading in my school.

"Who the hell's Jack Frost?" Beetlejuice asked, stuffing his hand in his pocket._  
><em>

"Just a fictional character type thing. Kinda like Santa Clause. He brings Winter where ever he goes and puts the frost on your window with his staff."

He looked thoughtful for a second, like he was going to question me about it, but he just said, "Huh." and didn't ask anything more.

It was really early in the morning. I think it was 3:00 A.M. or something, but I'm not sure. Yeah, any normal human being would be asleep right about then, and I had been. But then I woke up, couldn't go back to sleep. And due to the ice storm, I was positive school was cancelled. So what better way to pass the time than to hang out with Beetlejuice?

He let out a puff of fog, "It's colder than a witches tit in a brass bra out here."

I didn't know what that was suppose to mean, so I just assumed it meant, 'It's really freakin' cold!'

"I like the cold. When all the trees and grass dies, my allergies aren't so bad."

"So that means you'll be sneezing less, right? Because that shit gets real old, real fast."

I gave him my meanest look, but it just made him snort in laughter, "I can't help it! Excuse me I can't be as perfect as you."

He threw his arm around my neck, dragging my head into his armpit, "Hey, don't let it get to you. It took me centuries to get as good as I am now."

"Smug ass." I mumbled, ignoring the smell of sweat and stale beer that lingered on his stripped jacket. It didn't do any good to tell him he smelled awful. So why bring it up?

"Ooh, Lydia said a bad word!" he sang like annoying eight year old, "I'm tellin' mom!"

He didn't drop his arm from around my neck, but he did loosen his grip enough that I wasn't forced into his armpit any more. "Ass isn't even a bad word. Stupid."

We walked for a couple of hours. Talking about this, that and something else. We'd ended up at the edge of town when I finally told him that I should probably go home.

"Wanna walk or just magically be home in three seconds?"

"Magically be home in three seconds," I said, "Mom and Dad will be awake before we get there if we walk."

I didn't realize Beetlejuice had stopped walking until I was tugged back suddenly. I'd been holding on the the cuff of his jacket.

"Why'd you stop?"

The expression he gave me was...odd. He didn't look angry, or even mildly irritated. Just focused. Intensely so.

"Lyds, have you ever thought of just telling your mom and dad to fuck off?"

I wasn't a bit put off by his language. I heard it all the time. My ears wear deaf to it nearly. "No, why would I tell them to F-off?"

He shrugged, "Because everything we do all rides on weather or not your parents might find out. It get's old."

"Real fast?"

I was graced with the, 'do-you-even-hear-yourself-talk look, then he smirked and took a hold of my wrist, "Let's get you home. Babies have curfews, after all."

As promised, we arrived at my house three seconds later. A shucked out of my winter get-up and sat on my bed, wrapping my comforter around myself. The clock on my night stand flashed 5:47 A.M.

"BJ, hide in my closet till my parents leave for work. We can play Mario when they leave."

He cracked his knuckles, "Sorry, kiddo, but old Beej is gonna have to go."

I imagine I looked a little shocked. Beetlejuice never turned down the chance to hang out. "Seriously? What do you have to do that's so important?"

He turned and threw a cruel smirk my way, "None of your business."

I felt a little insulted at this, so I said the first thing that popped into my head. "Whatever, I bet you're gonna go jerk-off."

His eyes brows turned down. "No, actually, " he pointed at the direction he knew my parents room was, "I have plans to fuck your mom senseless."

"Fine. Leave, then."

And he did. I didn't see him again for a few days. And that was probably a good thing. It never turns out good when we're together while mad at one another.

* * *

><p>Okay, this chapter is really short. But, there's a reason for it. Things start picking up in the next chapter. So the writing style will be a little different and it will also be the last chapter written in Lydia's POV.<p> 


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